


The End Game (Various!Avengers x Reader)

by bubblegumnnebula



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 02:19:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17173988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblegumnnebula/pseuds/bubblegumnnebula
Summary: “We’re in the end game now.”





	The End Game (Various!Avengers x Reader)

You had always been different. That much you had known.

Since you were very young, your parents would throw you cautious glances and fearful looks. You didn't notice them at the time, but after the trip down memory lane when you had received that knowledge of your abnormalities, you couldn't believe you missed them for the first fourteen years of your life. 

You had thought it was normal. 

The day you started suspecting something, you were 14. Your friends at school were completely shocked by the knowledge of your parents' behavior. The sudden realization to the fearful actions your parents gave you made you spiral into a mental block. You couldn't think straight for a week. 

Soon after, the dreams started. 

They weren't nightmares, just...dreams. Oddly vivid, but, nonetheless, dreams. 

At first, they weren't as detailed. One you clearly remembered consisted of a first person shot of a little hand touching the surface of a body of water and seeing it turn to solid ice. 

But as time went on, they became extremely lucid. Down to the smallest detail, such as what time it was to the color of shirt you were wearing.

Not only this, but at first, the dreams were rare, perhaps once a week. But with the growing vividness, the frequency grew too. In present day, they were the only dreams you had. 

Although these dreams were far from nightmares, you still found yourself quite disturbed by them, leaving you to lose sleep at night. 

One particular dream still haunts you to this day. You were 17 at the time, about to graduate high school and truly begin a new life. 

The dream began with you in a burning building. 

Although the dream was virtual, it had felt so real to the point of where you felt the heat of the flames.

You watched yourself in this dream as if you were in 3rd person, as if you were watching a movie. You watched yourself as they stood motionless, fear coursing through their eyes. 

Albeit suddenly, you, "dream" you, began to run through the burning household, clearly in pursuit of something. 

You watched as "you" went room to room, until you found your desired destination. Which happened to be a bedroom. 

Out came "you", moments later, with a young child in your hands. The dream ended with you leaving the burning house. 

It had kept you up the rest of the night, leaving you tired and lethargic the next day. 

As much as disturbing as the dream was, what disturbed you most was the next day's events. 

You drug yourself out of bed, eyes droopy and muscles fatigued. You happened to have school that day, so you assumed the school hours would be hell. 

Your mom had the morning news on, as usual, while you ate your cereal. You never really paid attention to what the caster said, but your attention was snatched when you heard,

"A raging fire burned down the Johnson's house last night at around midnight. The entire family escaped, but only in the nick of time. Apparently, the family insisted they were rescued by a mysterious stranger, dragging them to safety. Whomever this savior was, you have the Johnson's and the entire town's gratitude."

Your stomach lurched at the words the woman spoke. 

The Johnson's were a family you babysat for, and they were incredible. You were closer to them than you were your own parents. 

You stared wide-eyed at the TV, dumbstruck by what had just occurred. Your mom had to practically yell at you to snap you out of your trance. 

You refrained from telling her what was going on, verbally blaming it on the lack of sleep. She shot you a suspicious look, however, she dropped the subject. 

To this day, you had no rational explanation for the bizarre dreams.

The sound of the bell of someone entering the bar made you slightly jump. You had found yourself down memory lane, a street you never enjoyed taking. You quickly composed yourself. making sure you looked ready for any paying customer. 

As a bartender, respect wasn't found around every corner, but nonetheless, you were representing a company, a company that provided you money for rent.

It was a Tuesday night, so it was no surprise that it was slow. Despite this, you weren't completely off-put that someone was coming in for a drink. 

You turned to face the customer, a small smile on your face. You quickly learned that if you were to throw on a car salesman's smile, put tended to be more aggressive. You opted to being friendly and not annoying.

Turning to face the man in front of you, you immediately knew that he had lived a life and had stories to tell. 

He was tall, black, bald, and had an eyepatch covering his left eye. He sported a bold black leather trench coat.

"Didn't know the men in black were in town." You joked. "What can I get for you?" He didn't seem outwardly stressed, so sharing a joke would be no harm. You were right, considering the smirk he shared. 

"Whiskey. Straight." You cocked an eyebrow, but complied. 

"Rough day?" You commented, turning around to fetch the alcohol. 

"Something like that." You had always been friendly to each customer, but you knew never to cross any boundaries. So, you left the conversation at that. If he wanted to continue it, he would. 

Sliding the whiskey across the bar counter, the man grabbed the drink to bring it up to his lips. You left him to his thoughts, returning to cleaning glasses and organizing drinks. 

You found yourself drowning in your thoughts once again, while drying a shot glass. 

Due to the untrustworthy behavior of your parents, you found a rift divided the three of you. By the time you graduated and moved out, you barely spoke to them anymore. 

Nothing had changed three years later. You occasionally sent your parents a letter, once every two weeks or so, but thinking about it, you hadn't made contact in over two months. The more you dreamt the oddities, the more you became distrustful of them. There was something they weren't telling you, something huge. 

Yes, your parents loved you. But they were also afraid of you. And that's what hurt the most. 

Ever since you moved out, you had no desire to attend college. You would just stand out there, too. You had been picking up jobs, moving around, still driving the car you bought with your own money when you were 17. It was a 2002 Kia Sportage, with a price of $650 you bought from your distant cousin. 

You also had minimal items to your name, making it easier to move around, which happened to be a lot. You stayed mainly on the East Coast, moving to different states. You lived in bigger cities such as Boston, Philadelphia, and Providence. But you also live in smaller towns around the same areas in tiny towns. 

Currently, you were craving the big city life. So, you packed your bags from Newport Beach and moved to New York City. From here, you worked as a bartender in a downtown Manhattan pub. It wasn't the most fabulous job in the world, but you found yourself enjoying it. The people were good, their stories better. You have yet to have a day to wake up and dread going to this new job. 

Blinking, you snapped yourself from your thoughts to turn around to see if the eye-patched man needed anything. You turn to find him staring at you. It was unexpected and a bit unnerving, but nonetheless, you put on your kind smile. 

"Can I get you anything else?"

"Tell me, (Y/N), when did the dreams start?" 

You could barely register the words that were just spoken to you. 'What the hell...' The man held authority in his voice, but nothing malevolent. 

"I beg your pardon?" You spoke back, still in shock at the extensive knowledge that this apparent stranger had about you.

"I asked you when your dreams started." Well, you heard correctly after all. "Your parents said it was around when you were 14, but I want to hear it from you."

Now, if the first sentence caught you off guard, the second was on a whole other level. 'Who the hell is this guy and what does he want with me?' 

"Who are you?" 

"My name is Nick Fury. And I have a proposition for you."


End file.
